


Gotta Jet

by hotot



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: BDSM, Body Worship, Dom/sub Play, Drunk Sex, Edgeplay, Established Relationship, F/M, Implied Consent, Objectification, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Recreational Drug Use, Rough Sex, Sexual Experimentation, Sexual Fantasy, Smut, Spanking, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 08:50:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6511360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotot/pseuds/hotot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Naomi wants to mix Jet and sex. Hancock isn't so sure, but he obliges in his own way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gotta Jet

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a anon tumblr hc on @valentinevibrations about Sole, Hancock and drug use during rough sex. I'll be over here not looking anyone in the eyes for a few days. 
> 
> Holler if you see any errors or whatnot, and as always, comments and kudos are treasured. <3

“Have you ever had an orgasm while on Jet?” 

The question came out of nowhere, and it surprised him. Naomi was lounging on the red couch in his mayoral office, bare feet kicked up on the arm rest, head in Hancock’s lap. The mayor of Goodneighbor was in the middle of a swig of bourbon and he choked a bit before managing to swallow, groping blindly to put his glass down on the safety of the side table while peering at his lover. 

That word, ‘lover,’ was the biggest understatement of the apocalypse. 

“S’cuse you?” He rasped out around the bourbon. They’d been talking easily about nothing in particular, letting stories and jokes carry them late into the night as they always did when there was nothing pressing on the agenda for the next day, sucking on mentats and slamming back rounds of liquor to keep the high going as long as they dared so they could continually bask in each other’s company. It was a nightly ritual when she was in town. Usually they’d fuck and and then end up back on the couch, talking and laughing again, but naked this time. Right now they were just talking, mostly clothed, though Naomi’s jumpsuit was unzipped down to her belly, her breasts spilling half out to put on a show. 

“You heard me. Jet. Orgasms. Tried it?”

Instead of answering, Hancock’s fingers twined and twisted into the long top of Naomi’s otherwise cropped red hair, pulling gently and then not so gently as he leaned down to kiss her, his thin mouth met by her hungry, full lips. 

Kissing her was like being devoured. 

He bit down on her lower lip gently and ran his tongue along the sweetness, humming in contentment as she levered herself onto her elbows to get more leverage against his mouth.

Fahrenheit had recently described them as horny teenagers, eyes rolling so hard Hancock feared she might have an aneurysm. She wasn’t wrong of course, even if Hancock was over three decades old and near immortal, and Naomi was well over 200 years old herself. He _felt_ like a giddy, greedy teenager again, sneaking off to Goodneighbor to get high, except now he didn’t have to sneak anywhere because he _ran_ Goodneighbor, and Naomi was his drug of choice. 

“You didn’t answer my question,” Naomi said, pulling away slightly and peering up at him from her half propped position in his lap. Hancock shifted slightly as his cock began to harden. 

Of course he’d had an orgasm while taking Jet. Hancock had done pretty much everything that could be done while doing Jet. Fucking, fighting, hell, he’d even had one really weird night in the Memory Den where he’d huffed a few inhalers full before hopping into a pod to relieve the high he’d got from taking the radiation therapy drug that had ghoulified him. Jet extending the memory of _that_ particular high had nearly ruined him for a week after. Fahrenheit thought he might be going feral and threatened to shoot him. Jet orgasms were a fun treat if done right, but like anything on Jet, they could also be a mindfuck.

Just because he’d done it didn’t mean Naomi needed to. But then again, this was Naomi, and Naomi was crazy. Hanging out with Hancock gave her ideas and she’d run with them so if she was going to be crazy shit they might as well do it together and he’d make sure she was safe. She might have 200 years on him age wise, but he had about fifteen years of heavy chem use on her. Apparently she'd rarely touched the stuff pre-war. He was suddenly very very glad he was a junkie chem expert. At least that way he could keep up with Naomi, stay a step ahead of her. Keep her from getting hurt.

Funny how that had become his primary motivation in life. Keep her safe, keep her happy. 

Keep her. 

With John Hancock as lookout and guardian, nothing could harm her… He’d even stopped worrying that _he_ was a danger to her, for the most part. 

“Yeah,” he said carefully. “‘Course I have. It’s fuckin’ intense. Like torture-- makes a moment last for weeks. Made me weep, the first time.”

“I bet it’d be incredible. Everything ratcheted up to eleven and the rest of the world stopping as the orgasm went on… and on. I want to try it,” she said, her gray eyes wide and earnest, with a hungry glint that told Hancock she’d gotten the scent of something she wasn’t going to let go of ‘till she had her way. 

He felt a little thrill at the thought, his cock giving a more assured twitch as he imagined demanding that she declare when she was going to cum, and he’d stuff the Jet inhaler in that full, begging and wanton mouth and press down… 

_Oh. Oh yes._ This was something that he needed to do for her. She’d be carefully supervised, of course, just like when they took buffout and med-x to boost strength and keep one or both of them from getting seriously injured when Naomi wanted it rough. Well, rougher, in any case.

He hooked his arms under her pits and dragged her upright against his chest. He loved these quiet nights in Goodneighbor when no one was around to bother them and he could pretend to be the cruel, dangerous bastard that got her so worked up. It was not a side of their relationship that they showed to anyone else-- not RJ or Nick because neither of them would understand and they were already weird enough about the two of them being together. Cait and Deacon might get it, but neither of them trusted those two to be discreet. Certainly Piper was not included, though she knew there was some deeply kinky shit between Piper’s Blue and the ghoul Mayor of Goodneighbor. Hancock and Piper shared Naomi readily enough, and the three of them had decided on a “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy regarding the chems and the really nasty stuff that Hancock and Naomi got up to when Piper wasn’t around. 

Like having orgasms while being force-fed Jet.

It wasn’t _his_ idea, but he was gonna run with it. 

“All right,” he said with a grin that bordered on evil, pressing his lips hard to her ear and his hands tangling in her hair. His broken voice was low and mocking, but she knew it was just an act, the kind that got her going. “Let's talk this over. You wanna cum while tripping on Jet. Sure… we can do that for ya, but you ain’t allowed to cum till I give you the sayso. How's that sound?”

She was putty in his hands, leaning back into the grip he had on her hair until he was cradling her head, lips going to her neck and spending some time mapping the flutter of the pulse along her jugular, beneath the softest, sweetest skin he’d ever had the honor of tasting. 

Good god, but he loved this crazy, beautiful, timeless woman. He kissed her neck. Then he licked her. Then he bit her.

“Sounds good to me, Mr. Mayor,” she murmured as he worked her over. He chuckled at the use of the title-- he wasn’t one of those types that wanted to be called ‘Sir’ but he liked when she teased. In all honesty, he liked it best when she called him John. “But I don’t want it to be any old orgasm. I want you to fuck my brains out until I’m screaming and begging for it. Slam me around, choke me, make me afraid. Like we fucked over in Jamaica Plain when we found all that Buffout and Med-X.”

“This ain’t gonna be pretty, Sunshine,” he murmured, hand going around to explore the curve of her hip. 

“I haven’t been concerned with pretty since I got iced for 200 years, John,” she said, scornful. He bit her neck hard in reprimand for her tone and she yelped and wriggled against him, knowing what it was doing to his cock. 

Her body had grown hard and scarred over the past half dozen months in the Wasteland, puppy fat giving way into the deliciously taught and curvaceous woman that was sprawled against his chest. She would never be stringy like those born into the blaster world, but she was no longer the soft sole survivor of Vault 111. She was the Goddess of the Commonwealth-- it’s crowning jewel. And she was debased, wanton, and needy, melting in his hands. 

One ruined hand went up to cup her breast, blunt nails digging into flesh before dragging his fingers down her bared belly, tugging at the zipper. 

“Let's do it tomorrow, love,” he said, slipping his hand below her belt line to find the dense curls between her legs. “If you wanna get that fucked up, I wanna start from a place of sobriety. Too much booze and mentats for any Jet tonight.”

She moaned in protest, but let her legs fall open as his roughened fingers found the bud of her clit, stroking gently but insistently. “But now you’re just teasing me, John,” she said, breathless. 

“I ain’t teasin’ Sunshine. You should know I don’t start anything I can’t finish.” She yelped as he suddenly flipped her over on all fours, ass facing him. “Just ‘cause I ain’t gonna does you with Jet tonight doesn't mean I ain’t gonna have my way with you anyway.” 

“Damn right, you’re gonna have your way with me,” she shot back, demanding satisfaction. 

He jerked the jumpsuit from her shoulders, dragging it down from her hips and untangling her legs from the garment so she was naked on hands and knees on the couch. Her ass was a lighter shade of brown than the rest of her from lack of exposure to the elements, and he knew that a few smacks would get it red, and her cunt wetter than a rainstorm. 

Expertly cupping his hand, he wound up and landed a blow on her ass, and she yelped, and then giggled. Speaking always made her silly. Dropping to his knees behind her on the couch, he kissed the spot he’d just hit, before smacking her her again, hard, eliciting a yelp and another round of giggles. 

He chuckled, his voice gravely and warm with love. “Let's do a warmup fuck tonight. Preview for tomorrow. See how ya feel about what I’ve got in mind. What d’you say, love?” He ground out, hands going to the flag he wore as a belt belt and untying the knot that held up his trousers. He began to strip, leaving only his hat on. 

For a moment Hancock marveled at how easy it was to be naked in front of her now. He’d never really had a problem with getting naked with lovers until he’d met Naomi-- that first night had taken more than his fair share of mentats and med-x to feel brave enough to even take off his shirt-- something about facing the perfect goddess that she was without the armor of his frock coat and his ruffles had thoroughly unnerved him. 

But she’d smiled at him-- no, _beamed at him_ , and run her hands all over his withered skin, and took his cock into her perfect mouth, hot and loving, and Hancock knew from that moment that he was utterly, forever ruined.

“I say you better fuck me soon, John,” she said, wiggling her ass. “I’m not a patient woman.” With a growl he pressed his bare hips into her ass, letting his cock slide against her slit so she moaned. The skin of his cock was as roughed up and withered as the rest of him, but it still worked just fine, getting harder and more needy by the moment. In fact, ghoul stamina was baffling to some people. It _delighted_ Naomi. 

He dragged his cock against her slit over and over, pressing her face down into the cushions the way she loved, so her ass was way in the air, teasing her entrance with his cock until she was cursing him roundly. He smacked and squeezed her ass until it was red, and would show bruising tomorrow. 

“Please John,” she begged through gasps, her giggles gone as their play turned heavier. He loved that shift, when she went from innocent glee to coming undone in his hands. He lived for it. 

“Please what?” He murmured, slipping two fingers into her cunt and stroking gently as she moaned. “What are you begging for?” 

“Please fuck me,” she begged again. “I know you want me. I want to be your fucktoy, John.”

That was her way of letting him know she was ready, wildly aching for him to fuck her in earnest. He lined his cock up with her entrance, and thrust into her, pushing his full length into the soft, tight heat of her cunt and they groaned in unision. 

“You’re my pet. Plaything. Fucktoy,” he murmured, his lithe body flexing over her back so he could tongue her ear and fill his hands with her breasts. He began to rock his hips against her ass, slowly but insistently, and she shuddered, leaning into his thrusts and bracing herself on the couch. “How’d you feel about that, hm?”

She shivered, and giggled, nervous. “I don’t really get a say if I’m just a toy, do I?” 

“Na, you really don’t, toy,” he said, and she sighed happily. She was happiest when they created the illusion of her not getting a say, though they both really knew who held the power here, and it wasn’t him.

They moved together, finding a sustainable pace with a decent amount of friction. He wasn’t as rough as he might have been-- their minds were sharp from the mentats but their bodies were hazy things from the booze. Instead of worrying about how to push her physically, John began to growl into her ear, fingers sharp and mean at her neck, choking her just so as she bounced frantically against his hips and thighs, gasping her thank you for fucking her and whining her pleases for more. His cock found that sweet spot inside, the one that would make her come undone into a spasming orgasm in just a few thrusts and he drove her steadily towards that point. 

“You’re gonna ask me permission before you cum, Sunshine,” he said, hands roaming back to her breasts and pinching. Naomi liked pain, and it was a sure-fire way to get her over the edge. 

But he didn’t want her over the edge. He wanted her to walk up to it, walk along it, but not fall over.

“Y-yes, John,” she moaned and then she gasped. “John,” she said frantically, sounding almost fearful, “John I’m going to cum… can… I please… please cum?”

He slowed his pace slightly and she keened tunelessly, blinded by need. “No,” he said, his tone flat. “You may not.” 

She groaned in frustration and the noise sent a bolt of need into his groin. He jerked her upright, pressing her back hard against his chest with one arm snaked around her hips and he began to fuck her again in earnest, his other hand finding her folds and parting them so he could play with her clit. 

“Now… uhhh! J-oh… Jo-hn, please I’m gonna cum.” His name falling broken from her lips made his heart swell.

“I don’t hear you asking, Sunshine,” he said into her ear.

“May I cum, please? Please John?”

He hummed as if he were thinking carefully about his answer, pinching one of her nipples and she gasped. “No, you can’t cum.”

She groaned and tried to jerk away, but his hands were everywhere, finding the most tender parts of her body to pinch and scratch and bite. Every bit of his awareness was consumed with her, his hands full of her body, touch drinking in the smooth velvet of her cunt on his cock and her sweat-slickd back against his belly. His nose had her scent, his tongue the sweet-salted taste of her skin, his black eyes fixed on her shoulders, her throat, the flash of full breasts capped with dark nipples bouncing freely as they set a frantic rhythm. The sound of her groans were feral and needy and sweeter than Magnolia’s songs, and his mind was filled utterly with her light. 

He was going to black out and come just from the sheer over-stimulation that came from fucking Naomi, his love, his toy, his Sunshine, but he couldn’t, he had to hang on, because he had to give her the sweet relief of permission to cum. But first he needed to show her what dragging it out was like-- what riding endlessly on the edge of relief would be like when she huffed a hit of Jet, before letting her spill over.

She’d gone nonverbal, little chirps and moans emitting sporadically as she tried to hold on. “Stay with me, love,” he moaned, as much for his benefit as hers, and she nodded that she would, that she was with him and would ask when she was ready. 

“John…” she breathed his name over and over like a mantra that was going to be his undoing. _Think of Diamond City, think of Super Mutants, think of Baseball, think of…_

“John, can I cum, please?” She sounded close to tears, and it was good enough for him. 

“Yeah, you can. Come for me, baby,” he said in her ear, his heart swelling as if he’d just presented her with a profound gift, grinding his hips into her ass and hitting the spot inside her that made her shudder, his fingers frantic on her clit. He felt the initial clench of her muscles spasming and then releasing, and he redoubled his efforts with his hips while slowing his fingers to slow circles in the slick of her cunt. She clenched again and again, and a broken sob tore from her throat. She collapsed completely and his arms strained as he pulled her to him, her head lolling back against his shoulder, pressing her lips to the ruined skin under his jaw, below a withered ear and kissing him over and over. She was making mewling sounds, like a kitten lost in the rain and Hancock was shocked to find that damn it, he _loved her_ even _more_ in that moment than he had just moments ago. His heart was going to burst from the sheer overwhelming feeling of adoration and admiration.

“Your turn, John,” she whispered, her voice hoarse as a ghoul’s but… somehow full of mischief. “Cum for me, now.” She paused, and then added, as an afterthought, “Please.” 

He couldn’t disobey her. Not ever. 

He came so hard it was painful, bottoming out inside of her, and he really did black out for a moment as he spilled his useless seed inside her cunt. When he came to just moments later he was clutching her to him almost violently, panting in deep grunts, sprawled back on his heels with her sitting fully in his lap. He shuddered, and began to kiss her neck and shoulders, and the shaved sides of her head, worshiping every part he could reach and she sighed. He tried to shift her so he could see her face, but she made a noise of protest. 

_Not yet_. _Don’t you dare,_ her body told him. He’d lost his hat at some point, and they sat there naked and entwined for who knows how long, his cock still buried in her heat, growing semi-soft as she relaxed into his arms. He craned his neck to peer over and down at her, and noticed the wet track of tears on her cheeks.

A rough hand came up to cup her jaw, a thumb tracing the line of her tears, and she sniffed. “You okay there, love?” He rumbled finally, breaking the silence and the contact, shifting her to the side so he could look at her. She was dazed, eyes unfocused, lashes wet with more tears, unshed. He felt a flash of fear that he’d gone too far, pushed her beyond her limits, and he felt like a monster for hurting her, denying her _anything_ at all in this blasted world--

But she smiled, and leaned in to kiss him, full and warm and… damn, but she was turning him on _again._

“You are a very devious ghoul,” she said softly as she pulled away from his mouth, swaying slightly, her words slurred. “And I love you. So much.” 

Relief flooded him and he pulled her into a hug, kissing her forehead, and he felt her yawn against his chest. “I am a very devious ghoul, and I love you too, Sunshine. So, so much.” He wished there were better words than love for the feeling in his heart in that moment. They were both spent, and now he just wanted to be curled up under a mess of blankets with her, whispering nothings until she fell asleep. “Bed time, I think,” Hancock said. He stood. His cock, her cunt, and their thighs were still a mess from their fucking, so he grabbed a rag and with the help of some clean water, he cleaned Naomi up. She sighed happily at the attention he gave to her, careful and close to worship, before attending to himself. 

“Up,” he commanded, and she rose obediently. In a swift movement flipped her over his shoulder and carried her across the room to the alcove that hid his bed, Naomi giggling all the while. He flipped back the covers and dropped her in bed, crawling in after, and pressing into her, kissing her over and over again. She sighed and tucked herself under his chin, and he pulled her as close as he possibly could. 

“You sure you’re all right, there. That wasn’t too much, was it love?” He rumbed into the top of her head. “You were cryin’ at the end and I don’t wanna make you cry.”

She shook her head emphatically. “It was just catharsis. In fact, I think I’ve found a new kink,” she murmured into his chest, lips brushing the taught folds of skin. 

“Orgasm denial, huh?” He chuckled. “Still wanna try the Jet, or you think that was enough for ya?”

“Oh, we’re doing the Jet.” 

He laughed, and she yawned. “Whatever you say… toy.”

She pinched his leathery ass, and he yelped, chuckling. 

Then they settled into the softness of the abundant blankets and warmth of each other, exhaustion winning over from the heat of sex and sharpness of mentats, but Hancock couldn’t sleep until he heard her steady, deep breathing and felt the flutter of her breath on his bare chest.

He fell asleep marveling at how often Naomi had him looking forward to their tomorrows. 

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to have a chapter 2 but it's been a year and I can't seem to write it. So, this is it. Sorry to leave ya hangin', folks.


End file.
